ABBY
Aoife nudges Candice wide-eyed when I arrive at the studio in a fitted denim dress with my hair professionally blow-dried and contacts instead of glasses.
‘Someone’s got it bad,’ Candice announces to the entire building. Today’s cerise pink T-shirt reads, Becoming a DJ Saved Me From Becoming A Pornstar.
‘Alright, girls, don’t broadcast it to the whole of Dublin. I’m not prepared to jump headfirst into the rabbit hole, but I can still take a bit of pride in my appearance.’
‘The papers showed us exactly how deep you’re prepared to venture into the rabbit hole. He’s here, by the way,’ Aoife says.
‘Already? He’s an hour early.’
‘He’s been here since nine o’clock, said he had to talk to you.’ We approach the recording studio, whispering though he might hear us through the soundproofed walls.
‘Tell him I’m running late. I’ll talk to him after the show. I need to get my head straight before I go in.’ I pace the corridor impatiently.
What I need is to prepare myself for the effect he has on me. The last thing I need is for him to get me all riled up before the show. Anything he has to say can wait. Thank God Mrs Boyle arrived when she did because when Callum is in the vicinity, all rationale goes out the window.
I lurk in the filing cupboard along with a million old reels of recordings and a couple of friendly mice. Following the events of the weekend, the thought of being in such close proximity to him panics me more than I care to admit. I try to hum a M.O.D.E.R.N. song and remind myself why I am doing all of this.
At ten fifty-five, I can hide no longer. Waltzing into the studio as bold as brass, I take my seat opposite him, meeting his eye with as much confidence as I can muster. Thankfully, there’s a desk between us, because it would be too easy to sit my ass onto his lap instead of my chair.
‘Hello, Abby.’ Callum’s husky tone infers he’s been waiting his entire life for me, instead of a couple of hours.
‘Callum.’ I acknowledge him curtly and busy myself with the pretence of checking my headphones, adjusting the volume unnecessarily. One of a hundred methods of distracting myself from staring at his infallible appearance.
He’s wearing the same shirt he wore the night that he arrived at my hotel door.
‘Abby, you can’t avoid talking to me forever. Either we do it now, or we are going to have this conversation on national radio,’ he warns.
My head snaps up in alarm. ‘You wouldn’t dare.’
‘You have no idea what I would do for you, Abby, and it has nothing to do with a ridiculous bet. I’m going to make you mine. Properly mine.’ His quiet confidence demands my attention, yet I can’t trust the words that leave his lips.
‘Is this another one of your well-rehearsed lines from your extensive manual?’ My reply is sharper than I intend.
Before he can answer, Candice appears at the window and begins the countdown. ‘And you’re on in one, two, three…’ Aoife hovers in the background, anxious to see how this will play out.
‘Good morning. Thank you for joining us this morning on Ireland Today. I’m Abby Queenan, your inhouse agony aunt. I hope you are all well on this beautiful Monday morning. Today I have a special guest with me. Someone I know you’ve all been dying to welcome on the show; it’s Ireland’s one and only rugby legend, Callum Connolly.’
I sit back and gesture for him to speak into the microphone the way I’d asked Aoife to demonstrate. There’s no way I could have risked leaning over him like that and inhaling those intoxicating pheromones he emits.
‘Thanks for having me, Abby. It’s a first for me I have to admit.’ Is he talking about the show or us?
‘Well, the listeners of the country are hoping you’ll shed a bit of light on their romantic questions today. We’re excited to be privy to the deepest darkest secrets of the world of The Single Man’s Perspective.’ Candice came up with the title for the show. Not particularly original, but it cuts to the chase.
‘Well, I’m not sure how much light I can shed, especially given my newfound status…’
I kick him swiftly underneath the desk.
‘But I’ll certainly give it a go.’ He winks flirtatiously, displaying dimples which have the potential to make me forget my name.
‘Great, well, as you know, Callum, we’ve been advertising your appearance here and asking listeners what exactly that they want to ask you. There’s been an overwhelming response. Your popularity knows no bounds. The same few questions keep flooding in…’
It gives me a great deal of pleasure to watch Callum’s face drop. He recovers quickly and resumes his usual infuriating arrogance. At least Arrogant Callum is easier to deal with than Compassionate Callum.
‘Great.’ He even manages to sound enthusiastic. Oh, he’s good.
‘We’ll have some music now, but don’t go away. You are listening to Ask Abby on Ireland Today 97.5 FM with special guest Callum Connolly, who is about to reveal, The Single Man’s Perspective.’
